"Ah! And what dost those three words mean unto thee, precious Jaybird, Upstairs beyond the clouds, prolonging the requisite of loveliness which thou bequeath unto Seventh-Heaven by your zealous zealotry by thy 'fait accompli'? sed I, sighing. And tell me quick before you gotta return, my fairest liege, how far-away must you be you couldn't come down and gimme one, simple, kiss every night, clinging to straws?"

"How?? I'm in Heaven now, brown cow...and I couldn't just disobey Almighty God by willy-nilly deciding where I'm going. The subtle, weeds-like-earth where I grew-up to meet the Trinity's Fortress. Though seventeen years is a short time, that's apparently all I needed."

gnawwNthotz.
Janet continued:

"I wanna take-you-out to a fabulously funny stand-up club when you get settled in our mansion -"

"We have a bloody MANSION?????"

"Yes, dear," like the Walton's.

Her expert compassion
was utterly tangible like her lifetime.

"Our present enjoyment is gone like the Dead Sea; the death of us is a gracious revelation from the CD to the gravity of the opaque graveyard: as the night falls and the Sonshine rises, Seventh-Heaven is reaching us quicker everyday."

The invasion of futility o'ercame me
as I realized I gotta croak again to see
her, to neck with Miss Maverick.

"You're deep, girl."

"I learned a lot Upstairs, dear. See, realizing the liberation of the logical may just as well
become the internal: they may pose a very real threat by the immediate danger from false
teachers. Have you seen the spamOcide from Nigeria??"

WhahahaWhahaha!!!
"You're an esoteric scream - an expert in Popular Dichotomy like the other zine. I definitely wanna go now. Let's dress up! Me as a skeleton... you can be missERy!!!"

"B9! Grrrr!!!
Dont be such a YouthPaste!!!
[thunder clapped,
storms acomin, Paw -
silent discord brewing
o'er the endless horizon]
NOW YOU LISTEN HERE!!!!!!"
withe most cute,
implicit immortalness
imaginable. "You're completely
missing the point: original love
comes only from the First Place,
from Home Base!!!" as she pointed
her precious, insightful thumb toward
the Great Beyond.

"Yikes! Yes, maam! I'm all ears!"
Out the window, I saw a sassy rainbow: whisper-whimper-thin yet razor-sharp-loyalty.
"DUDE! Before I forget. Wanna hear an
awwwsomely gross story?"

"Tell me your awwwsomely gross story, dude."

"Well, one time, this kid with highwaters took me to visit some festival in the fifth grade; when we got back to their house in KC, his grandpa kept farts in a bottle. Dunno how he kept'm in there, dunno how many he had, yet that story has haunted me all this time..."

"Bless his heart," as she looked skyward.

"S'up withat, Paul?
Ain't the raw execution
of the bizarre disturbing?
Wonder what his wife thot."

WhahahaWhahahaHeeHee "If she heard."

"Gotta nother gnawing question perhaps you could answer seeing as you left the disturbing delusion of earth."

She pressed closer. "I'm all ears, dear."

"The literal body dies, rots in the grave o'er time, all the nasty juices and savvy zealotry, so doesnt it freek-U-out I could have morphed Napolean's rotten dentures? Scary thot...?"

HeeHeeHee
"Not at all. See, God creates the soul - you're like no other in the universe; however, the fleshNbones 'recycles' into another person after you croak. Pleasant thought, huh? Que cera cera. Be pleased you're a mortal."

HeeHee. That's mgirl.
Quick - why she was in debate:

"What do pilots say flying into LA?"

Chuckling. "Cant wait."

"I need a LAXitive, dude."

She continued. "Now, descending into intelligence once again. Question: what profession is a phlebotomist? Take a wild guess."

"Doctors who study phlegm?"

The tempest in pigtails sed, "Ha. Not quite. One who punctures the hard shell with reality: the Trinity fills-you-up with love which you were unaware of before. Thus, the tender, architecture of love is almost like acting on a promise: like the flying-buttresses of the Gothic Chartres, true love needs support from above." Janet was slowly advancing through the roses as I dropped my mouth and graduated from B.S. "Just like the game of -" she made me face her with a rough-turn-of-the-cheek, to defy her, to dare her, as I rushed to get those electrify'n blankets off. "Polotics!!"

...and withat, she threw her head back and made the most requesting laugh, as if she dared anyone to sever this celebrated day, as if she was fully capable of 'carpe diem'. Gracefully taking my hands, she placed them on her face.

"Fill-me-up withe kindness you're known for;
fill-me-up like a phle-Botto-missed-you-so," laughing, caressing my visage withe N'jexx unmatched by anyone I yet knew, yet slowly disappearing in the mist of Seventh-Heaven.

"Gotta run. Gotta catch the Son. I love you, too."

And this pretty wonderful girl, floating-away, whom I loved far beyond this cheep-o URL, these ending wurdz, the outstanding character was almost out the obscure door.

She spread open her eyes and turned one, last XB4 my final death. "Each with an attraction, an endless proclamation of drama and tranquility, desire and passion between..." pointing at me, at herself. We reached-out our hands as the touch silently, slowly slipped away like Michelangelo's masterpeace. Almost outta sight, precious honeybee. Almost outta sight.

In my rush to hold-on to the one I most cherish,
to escape this expressionless-corpse-lifetime which is the trial of my extinguished existence,
I simply could not grasp what wasnt, as my arms, reaching-out, fell back on themselves like trying my best to crave a shadow in our usurped, monster-mash-crash.

Yes, sHe is quite capable of holding this mortal sinner weightless in this state of the Mobius strip, the War-of-the-Superbikes (Nina Hagan - a total kick-some-ass punker song, circa '84ish): almost succeeding in the revolution, yet not really gettn anywhere besides the whorizontal till we perish in the empty illusions in our carefully, regurgitated reputations following our re-HEARSE-le on stage. Read-between-the-lines, antifa.

I subsequently hold-up my hand signifying my vast, incredible love for her as I wept: a heart-
breaking blasphemy so rightly condensed as to
put us in ensuing vulgarity, yet so quietly cir-
cumferensed touched me, as an overwhelming torrent of rain gushed from my blue eyes. And, now, you must gaze at the lifeless, languid photo-
graphy to seize upon the artificial, unweeded-garden-of-youth. Yay.

I screamed across the zillions of miles,
"I dont drive spacecraft well, Jaybird!!!!!!"

"Sweetheart," she sed turning.
What does this geometry equation
add up to a2+b2=see2??
And, believe-you-me, baby,
we'll make lottsa babies."

"I love you, Janet," whispering.

"See squared," as she walked to eternity.

IN FINE SINE FINE
(in [the] end wthout end)
-Saint Augustin